


hummingbird

by tenmilliontrinkets



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Violence, little kids that know way too much, there's a description of a fight idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenmilliontrinkets/pseuds/tenmilliontrinkets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it’s something entirely animal, hinata thinks, the thing that tears a hole in the pit of his stomach when kageyama pushes him away.</p>
<p>the kagehina fight but different</p>
            </blockquote>





	hummingbird

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this is, just me completely deviating from canon and doing whatever the heckie
> 
> find me on tumblr (iwaizombie) and kick my ass!!  
> (also requests are always welcome)

It’s something entirely animal, Hinata thinks, the thing that tears a hole in the pit of his stomach when Kageyama pushes him away, and he’s breathing harder than is healthy.

“You want to fight?” He hisses, clenches his teeth and his fists and draws himself as high as he can. Kageyama recoils. “Hit me.” Kageyama scoffs, turns to leave, but Hinata’s _fucking done with this-_

He doesn’t recall throwing the ball at the back of his teammate’s head, but it makes contact sickeningly accurate, Kageyama’s pained shout something he wants to hear _so much more of_ but also _never again_. Kageyama faces him, his expression schooled into something akin to indifference if his eyes weren’t blazing, fury and fright and _is that pity because Hinata’s going to rip him_ apart _-_

He swings his fist forwards, knocks Hinata’s jaw to the side, and Hinata thinks he hears a sob above the ringing in his ears.

“Ow.” He stands, sways, and kicks as hard as his legs will let him, aiming for nowhere and everywhere and biting down on his own lip when he hits skin, Kageyama growling deep in his throat and grabbing his hair in retaliation.

“Bastard,” Hinata spits, propelling himself forward with enough force to send Kageyama sprawling, and he kicks, kicks, kicks until Kageyama grabs his leg and pulls him down. “ _So selfish_ ,” Hinata wheezes, the wind forced from his lungs. “I’m not yours-” Kageyama’s fist connects with his stomach, makes him cough, rattled and bleeding. He wipes wetness from his face, registers the shuddering breaths as Kageyama’s and not his own, and stands. “I’m not _yours_.” Hinata repeats. It hurts, stretching a split lip, and it’s a _lie_ , Hinata knows. He’s as much Kageyama’s as Kageyama is his. “And I have to learn to fight on my own.”

Kageyama doesn’t reply, just sits on the floor of the court where Hinata had left him, a hand pressed to his bleeding nose. He doesn’t move when Hinata steps past him and through the door, doesn’t move even after Hinata watches him through the window and waits for him out of habit. Hinata leaves once he sees Kageyama’s shoulders begin to shake, precarious and tipping him forward over his knees.

Hinata’s glad for biting wind and burning legs, so grateful for the physical, concrete sting of a bleeding lip and bruised ribs that shoves whatever’s suffocating him from the inside and picking apart his brain to the side for the blissless handful of moments it takes for him to get home.

His mother and Natsu don’t leave him be, thankfully accrediting his state to a rough week at training camp without Hinata having to bite his way through an explanation, but shoving him into a chair at the kitchen table and shoveling food onto his plate. Hinata laughs, jokes that it's not as if they didn’t feed him in Tokyo, and focuses on making “nothing happened” believable.

He winces when he gets into bed; he hates the cold, stiff sheets that should be welcoming after a week of sleeping on a futon, but an absence of body heat beside him chills him through to his toes. Hinata tries not to remember one morning when he’d woken up pressed into Kageyama’s side, a hand gripped in his shirt and his face shoved into the crook of Kageyama’s neck. Kageyama had been so red when he’d woken up it was almost funny if Hinata hadn’t been so embarrassed himself, the perplexing twist of his stomach plaguing him for the rest of the day until it had been time for bed again and Kageyama had whispered, hushed and slurred with sleep, that he can’t sleep when it’s too cold. Hinata blames his addled mind-he’d been hit in the head too many times that day-for thinking it was rational to climb into Kageyama’s futon and fall asleep there. He woke when the sun rose and crawled back to his own, freezing sleeping bag because he didn’t trust himself to make a good enough excuse as to why he was cuddled up to his supposed rival for the second time that week.

He shifts, kicks his blanket off before pulling it back again, turns onto his side, onto his back, onto his stomach, and nearly falls out bed when his phone rings. He contemplates letting it go to voicemail when he sees Kageyama’s contact, listening to it ring until he answers on the last one, impulsive and hasty like everything they do, everything they are.

“It’s, like, almost two in the morning.” Hinata says when he’s met with silence on the other end.

“I thought you weren’t gonna answer. Let me in, dumbass.” Hinata blinks and swings his feet to the ground, padding over to the window. Kageyama has the ugliest scarf Hinata’s ever seen wrapped around his neck and a nervous tilt to his posture that Hinata wishes doesn’t make him the slightest bit proud of himself.

_Okay._

“Okay.” He hangs up and tiptoes down the stairs, stopping in front of the front door when it hits him that _it’s two in the morning_ and _Kageyama’s here, Kageyama came back, should I open the door or will I fuck everything up again-_

There’s a knock, a swift rap of knuckles against wood.

“I can hear you thinking from out here,” Kageyama’s voice is muffled and Hinata can imagine him speaking into that ugly, ugly scarf. “Open the door.”

_Okay._

“Okay,” he answers, too quiet for Kageyama to hear, but he opens the door and doesn’t watch as Kageyama toes off his shoes and mutters a ‘sorry for the intrusion’ in a voice so tired that Hinata wants to scream.

He looks worse up close, Hinata notices.

There’s swelling starting around Kageyama’s left eye, stark against his skin, and a spot of blood below his nose.

Hinata moves without thinking, does everything he’s been trying his damndest to grow out of, already, everything he’s been trying to prove he can do without, but he moves with his eyes closed and latches onto Kageyama’s midsection with a throbbing in his chest that beats hard enough to crack his ribs.

There’s a grunt from above him as Kageyama holds onto his balance and sets his palms against Hinata’s shoulders.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Hinata heaves, and it’s a wet sob soaking through Kageyama’s shirt. Kageyama tenses, a dig of fingernails sharp against Hinata’s back before his being wrenched upwards and against Kageyama’s chest.

“M’too,” Kageyama shivers and pulls him closer, drips tears into his hair and holds him so tight it's bruising. “You meant it, though.” Kageyama sniffles and steps backwards, lingering long enough that Hinata’s skin burns with it. “You don’t need me.”

_Idiot._

“You’re so dumb.” Hinata shoves him. “I do need you. I just don't _want_ to.” Kageyama’s brow furrows, confused and _cute_ , Hinata thinks, lets the thought ricochet against the walls of his mind a couple of times before he firmly ignores it because _it’s not as if thinking that will do me any good right now_. “I have to learn to fight on my own.” This time, it’s not biting, not said with the intention to hurt, and Kageyama nods.

“And I’ll help.” Kageyama looks down, the bridge of his nose feathering pink. Hinata inhales, tampers down the frantic hummingbird beat of his heart, and takes a step forwards.

“Also you’re not actually selfish.” He reaches and tugs the scarf off from where it’s covering Kageyama’s mouth. “I-I’m not good at sharing either, and those tosses you send me are mine, and I still want more.” Kageyama’s blush has spread, Hinata notices, freckling the tops of his ears. “I think that makes me more selfish.”

“You want more?” Kageyama asks, incredulous. “Of what?”

“Of everything, I guess.” Hinata thinks he might explode. “Of...of you, and of tosses and of practice matches.” He leans in and tucks himself under Kageyama’s arms. “Of these,” he tells him.

“New things, too?” Kageyama tangles his fingers into Hinata’s hair and tugs, soft and teasing and endearingly nervous in a way that has Hinata on the verge of bursting into flames. He’s close enough to count Kageyama’s eyelashes, so he does, reaching twelve around the time when his vision goes blurry. Leaning forward knocks his nose somewhere around Kageyama’s chin.

“New things, too.” He says, and kissing Kageyama is awkward but easier than breathing, talentless and messy when their teeth knock together and Hinata can’t help but laugh into the crook of Kageyama’s neck.

They sleep, familiar heat and twin heartbeats filling Hinata’s empty bed to the corners with a comfort he’d latched onto so long ago and hadn’t let go. Waking up isn’t as terrible as Hinata imagined, save for the odd flip his stomach does, reminiscent of those mornings at training camp when he sees Kageyama’s features slack with sleep and smoothed of tension.

Kageyama still hits him upside the head when he opens his eyes and catches Hinata staring with his chin in his hands, pulling Hinata down to kiss him the next second until morning breath nudges them out of bed.

Natsu winks at them when they come downstairs, Kageyama flushing from his head to his feet and Hinata gaping at his younger sister for a good minute until his mother scolds her, but Hinata thinks it might all be worth it when Kageyama’s hand finds his under the table and holds fast.


End file.
